


A Black Rose

by GreatComet1812



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Flower Crowns, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Language of Flowers, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:35:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24523219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatComet1812/pseuds/GreatComet1812
Summary: Someone in the studio keeps giving Shawn flowers. He finds it flattering and wonders who his secret admirer may be, until he realizes the meanings behind the flowers are really a cry for help.
Relationships: Grant Cohen/Shawn Flynn, Joey Drew/Grant Cohen
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	A Black Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> Dark symbolism  
> Abuse  
> Suggested r*pe  
> Scars

Every day, Shawn would come into his office and find a beautiful flower sitting in a vase on his desk. Every day, the flower would be different, and each one would be beautiful. It was fake, of course, but he didn’t care. Each time he’d get one, he’d wear it in his shirt pocket for the day, then place it into a larger vase at home. He didn’t know who was leaving them, but it was a fun surprise every time.

That was, until he learned that flowers had meanings. This day, he had found a begonia, and was wearing it as usual when one of his friends, Lacie Benton, approached him.

“Hey, Shawn, everythin’ okay?” She looked at the flower.

Shawn smiled innocently. “Of course, why do yah ask?”

“Well, you’ve been wearin’ a lotta flowers recently... has... is someone hurtin’ yah or somethin’?” She gives a look of concern.

Shawn’s eyes widen. “What do yah mean? I wear them cause they’re pretty an’ someone’s been leavin’ ‘em on mah desk. I was hopin’ that if I wore ‘em someone would notice and I could get the hint they were given’ ‘em to me...”

Lacie seems even more worried. “Shawn... did yah not know that flowers have meanings? I think someone’s tryna give yah a cry for help...”

Shawn pauses. “Wait, what?” He tenses, worry starting to settle in. 

“You’ve got on a begonia now. Begonias are given as a warning, and they represent dark thoughts and danger. Yesterday, you were wearin’ an anemone, those represent forsakenness and sickness. The day before, you had a red columbine, those represent anxiety. Then a purple hyacinth, meaning sorrow. I think yah secret florist is in trouble...”

Shawn’s eyes widened. He quickly led the way back to his office, hoping to find a note or something on the vase, some kind of hint as to who was giving him these flowers. However, once he got there, he found a different flower. In fact, three, all in a vase making a little bouquet. A white clover, red chrysanthemum, and forget-me-not. There is a note attached as well. Shawn looks to Lacie worriedly, taking the note. It was clearly written hastily, and has a couple wet spots where it looks like someone had cried while writing it, making the Irishman’s heart ache.

I’ve been found out. I’m sorry, but I will no longer be able to send you flowers anymore. I’m so happy that you’ve liked them while it’s lasted, I’ve seen you wear them. I don’t blame you if you don’t understand what they mean... it was a foolish attempt anyway... a stupid way to try and get your attention, get your help, be saved by you like you were my knight in shining armor. However, I know now that I don’t need to be saved. I don’t deserve to be saved. Even if the flowers beg for you to remember me, I honestly know I deserve to be forgotten by someone as amazing as you...  
With love,  
G.C.

The note quivers in Shawn’s shaky hands. He looks down at the signature and it finally hits him.

G.C.

Grant Cohen.

He turns without another glance and starts running off down the hall. Lacie follows behind. 

“Shawn, where are you goin’?!”

Shawn doesn’t listen, tears filling his eyes. How could he have been such a fool? He knew Grant studied flowers as a hobby, the accountant had told him himself. How could he have possibly missed something so obvious? Now, his friend and crush was most definitely in danger, and it was all because of him. 

He gets to Grant’s office and bursts through the door. He gasps, seeing that it’s empty, all but for one single thing in the middle of the room. A black rose. That one Shawn knew. Death. As if on cue, he heard an awful, albeit muffled, scream from the lower levels.

He ran to the stairs, not wanting to bother with the slow elevator, following the screams. His tears grew heavier and larger, blinding his vision. That’s when he reached where he was meant to go.

Joey Drew’s Office. 

He immediately burst through the door only to cower at the sight before him. There was Grant, on the ground curled up in a ball. Tears streamed down his face as a tie was shoved into his mouth, tied tightly around his head. His glasses were on the floor, shattered and ruined. The front of his suit jacket and button down were both unbuttoned, showing his pale chest and all the awful bruises, cuts, and what looked to be hickeys littering it. He was awfully skinny, to the point his clothes looked big on him. His cheek was swollen and his nose was bleeding as he just laid there and cowered in fear while another man loomed over him. 

The other man was Joey Drew, who seemed just like normal, well dressed. He acted as if this was just a casual situation, like this was just another meeting, making Shawn’s blood boil even more. He glared up at the toy maker when the door burst open, and he held his cane like a weapon. He gives a sigh, and a laugh. 

“Ah, Mr. Flynn... I’m quite busy at the moment so if you could jus-“

“What the fuck are you doing to Grant?” Shawn glared daggers into Joey’s very soul, his sapphire eyes dark and filled with rage.

The accountant looked up weakly from the floor, his own hazel eyes wide in terror. “Sh... Sh-Shawn...” he coughed out blood, the red liquid dripping out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Did I permit you to speak, accountant?” Joey glares, lifting his foot and slowly stepping onto Grants head, pressing down and making him whine in pain. 

“N-No, I-I’m sorry, M-Mr. Drew!” He choked out, sobbing and coughing more.

Shawn clenched his fists. “Stop it! Get off of him!” He ran forward and tackled Joey into his desk, grabbing his cane and throwing it across the room then shoving him to the floor. He turned to Grant, gently lifting him into his arms and quickly running out, slamming the door behind him on the way.

Shawn ran all the way to the infirmary and quickly laid Grant down on the bed. Multiple people had seen at this point, and Sammy had called for an ambulance. By now Grant had passed out from exhaustion. The ambulance came, along with police, and Grant was driven to the hospital, Shawn staying right beside him the whole way, refusing to let go of his hand. 

Six hours. Six hours that felt like six years of Shawn panicking and pacing in the waiting room, muttering to himself and degrading himself for letting this happen. How long had this been going on? How long had Grant been silently suffering and desperately crying for help only for Shawn to be too stupid to notice? 

A nurse approached the panicked toy maker.

“Mr. Flynn, Mr. Cohen is ready to see you... he’s not in the best shape, but he’s healthy enough to be able to go home. He needs to rest over the next few days, I can provide a note so that he will be allowed to miss work. Does he live with anyone that we can contact?”

Shawn pauses, then nods. “He lives alone, but I can bring him to my house to take care of him...” Tears stream down his face as he feels a sense of relief knowing that the accountant is okay. 

The nurse nods. “Alright, I will get you a doctor’s note aswell... follow me and I will take you to Mr. Cohen while I sort out the paper work.”

The nurse leads Shawn into a private hospital room and motions for him to go inside. He does so and gasps, looking down at Grant on the bed. He had stitches and bandages all over his arms and chest, but most of the injuries were covered by the hospital gown and blankets. He was awake, just looking up at the ceiling until Shawn came in. When he did, Grant looked at him, tears filling his beautiful hazel eyes, the one thing that seemed to had been left untouched by Mr. Drew’s cruel torture. Shawn felt his own eyes well up with more tears. He ran to the side of the bed, collapsing to his knees and gripping the other man’s hand as he burst into tears of mixed joy, sadness, relief, and anger. 

“I-I’m s-sorry...” he whimpers shakily, looking up at Grant and sniffling. 

Grant just squeezes his hand, lightly. “D-Don’t be... y-you saved my life...” he softly smiles. “Th-Thank you...”

Shawn sniffles again, more tears filling his eyes, he slowly stands, easing himself next to the smaller man and wrapping his arms around him. He keeps it gentle, not wanting to hurt Grant, holding him protectively.

“R-Red chrysanthemums...” he sniffles. 

Grant tenses, if only slightly. “I... I-I’m sorry, I-“

“Shhhh...” the Irishman cuts Grant off, running his calloused fingers through the smallers soft, dark hair. “I-I found a book in the gift shop that told me flower meanings... I... I-I love you too, Grant...”

Grant flinches, looking up at Shawn, his smile growing brighter. It’s as if the toy maker had just instantly washed away all of the accountant’s grief, his sorrow, his fear, and filled him with more joy than he’d felt his whole life. He hugs Shawn a little tighter, crying joyful tears as he leaned on his chest. 

They got through all the paper work and then Shawn took Grant home, having to take a taxi since his car was back at the studio. Grant stayed in his arms the whole way, never letting go. Shawn took him into his home and sat him up at the bar. The two talked while the Irishman made dinner, then they cuddled on the couch and ate together. 

While they ate, Grant explained everything to Shawn. Turns out Joey had tricked Grant into an awful abusive relationship, and he’d began sending Shawn flowers as both a means of coping and a cry for freedom. Shawn muttered apologies the entire time, Grant expressing his forgiveness as he did. Grant then, albeit hesitantly, willingly allowed Shawn to look over his scars and stitches. Shawn made sure to put soft kisses on each and every one, as if to make Joey’s mark on the smaller man disappear. 

Shawn then got the flower vase. Grant explained what each flower meant, and as he did, Shawn weaved the plastic stems together to form a beautiful flower crown, which he place on top of Grant’s head, making him blush. 

He tried to remove it. “Sh-Shawn, I-I’m not good enough for a crown... th-these are yours anyway...”

Shawn took the crown and place it back on Grant’s head, softly cupping his not bruised cheek and giving him a soft kiss on the lips. Grant accepted, kissing back, blushing deeper.

Shawn pulled away with a smile. “You deserve the world, a ghrá... do you know what that means? It’s Irish...” Grant shakes his head. “My love...” Shawn kisses him again, Grant starting to happily cry once more as he kisses back. 

Within two weeks, Grant is deemed healthy enough to return to work. When he does, he’s greeted with a welcome back party. Everyone is smiling and happy, showing him sympathy and friendship, the studio decorated in yellow and orange roses and white, purple, and blue chrysanthemums to symbolize the friendship they share. Joey is nowhere to be seen.

Turns out, Joey was arrested. He would be left to rot in jail for a very long time because of what he’d done to the accountant. Henry, meanwhile, took complete leadership over the studio, changing the brand name to his own, Henry Stein. 

Grant Cohen could now live happily with Shawn Flynn, someone he knew would truly love him for who he was. The two began giving each other flowers, these now colored in gorgeous red and pink to symbolize their love. Grant never had to see Joey again.


End file.
